The Dark Brotherhood Forever
by tinytim12
Summary: After years of absence, the Listener had finally returned to the Sanctuary, with a new, vital contract in tow. And he needs a follower to accompany him. The Initiate would do just fine.
1. Chapter 1

The Initiate finisher her cleaning and held out her blade for inspection. The ebony dagger glinted with satisfying thinness. She picked up the bloody rag and tossed it to Vlod. 'Hey, check this out.'

Vlod scowled as the rag landed neatly in the spine of his book, distracting him from the world of Dunmer art. 'Knock it off.'

'Come on, Vlod, look.'

Vlod picked up the rag, studied it, and threw it over his shoulder. 'Not impressed. Oh, and for Talos's sake, look what you've done to my book. I had to kill thirteen forsworn to get this, you know.'

Babette came wandering in, heading towards the cooking pot. 'Honestly, can you two behave? This is a sanctuary, not some common pigsty.'

'Look at the rag,' the Initiate said. 'He bled so much he filled the whole thing.'

'Really?' Babette approached the fire and lifted the lid, studying the raw rabbit. 'Why on earth did you stab him in the jugular, then?'

'I didn't,' the Initiate said at once, her voice growing quieter.

'Yes you did,' Babette's eyes flashed, consuming the rabbit with her gaze. 'No where else bleeds that much. Of course I would know. You've overcooked this rabbit.'

Vlod jumped up, slamming his book shut. 'What?'

'You overcooked this rabbit,' Babette said, hopping down. 'Again.'

'I didn't slash his jugular - well I wasn't trying to,' the Initiate murmured. 'I mean, I had to be quick - he was talking to this guard and I had to do it as fast as I could...'

Vlod rushed to put out the fire and scooped out the rabbit onto a plate. Using his dagger, he sliced out a chunk and nibbled it off the edge. 'What are you talking about?' he frowned. 'It's fine.'

'Exactly,' Babette said. 'It's fine. It's not perfect. Once you've lived for a few hundred years, you tend to get picky.'

'What the blazes is this doing here?' Nazir said, looking at the reddened cloth on the floor. 'This is a place to eat, not for some - '

'It's her's, sir,' Vlod said, reveling in his revenge even as he dished out the rest of the stew onto the plates. 'She was just showing off how she stabbed some guy in the jugular.'

Nazir sighed heavily, and the Initiate sank back further into her chair. It wasn't exactly a written law, but one of the conventions for assassinations was, never, ever, go for the jugular. Doing so would mean a slow death, a screaming target, and a stream of blood. Three absolute taboos for anyone walking the path of Shadow. Not stabbing someone in the jugular was the key distinction between a thug and an assassin, and a must for members of the Dark Brotherhood.

'How many came after you?' Nazir said.

'Er - two...or three...'

'More like six,' Vlod said, filling up the last plate. 'You always have to multiply the figure by two, sir, it's one of the things I've learnt living with her.'

'Never mind,' Nazir said. 'It's just a once-in-a-while, mistake, I'm sure. Just don't let it happen again.'

'I won't so.'

'Can we eat now?' Babette was already in one of the chairs, peering at her leg of rabbit, slowly flexing and unflexing her fingers.

'I suppose we can,' Nazir said. and Babette immediately started tearing into her meat. Vlod picked up his dagger and began to slice delicately; the Initiate was about to join in when Nazir laid a hand on her shoulder.

'I think you're forgetting something,' he said.

'What?'

Nazir sighed again, and pointed to the rag on the floor. 'May I remind you, the Dark Brotherhood isn't a gang of common bandits. They are emissaries of Sithis. Pick that up.'

The Initiate slumped her shoulders and plodded over the rag, picking it up. She could feel Nazir's eyes on her back, judging her every step of the way. Ever since the Listener had left, Nazir had started taking control, and although the Initiate couldn't deny he was a good leader, he just wasn't the _Head. _The Head was, and always would be, the Listener.

'So, Nazir,' she caught Vlod saying when she went back to the table, 'How come we've got so few contracts nowadays?'

'I thought I told you already,' Nazir said, 'It's because the Listener is gone.'

'Oh,' Vlod said, staring into his oily dagger.

'Does he really talk - use to talk to that body?' the Initiate said.

Nazir scowled. 'Refer to her as the Night Mother.'

'Sorry, erm, the Night Mother. She can really talk to him?'

Nazir laid down his knife. 'Yes, she can. But of course you don't believe it.'

He looked at Vlod, who was trying to avoid the conversation by stuffing as much rabbit into his mouth as he could. 'You too, Vlod. I'm no fool.'

'Guilty as charged, sir,' the Initiate said.

'One thing you have to know, both of you, before you ever lift your forks one more inch, is that the Listener, the Night Mother, and everything the both of them can do is central to the pillars holding up the core principles of the Dark Brotherhood. Simply put, if you do not pledge allegiance to the Night Mother, you shouldn't be sitting here eating our food.'

Vlod dropped his rabbit.

'But of course, it is never that simple is it?' Nazir laced his hands together and leaned forward. 'I was like that, once. All of us. Astrid, Babette, the whole gang. And then the Listener came, and...changed everything.'

The Inititate hung on every word. Nazir and Babette rarely, if ever, talked about the days before the Dawnstar Sanctuary.

'It is because of the Listener - and the Night Mother - that you too are even here today.' Abruptly, Nazir picked up his fork and began chewing again. The two apprentices waiting for him to finish.

'I do get carried away a bit, do I?' he said, almost to himself. 'I guess what I'm really trying to say is that you two won't believe it now, but you will, and you have to believe it. Now eat.'

After a while, he looked up and found the two of them staring at him. 'What? You can eat.'

Babette jumped off the table and walked out, her plate a pile of flawless bones. The others began picking at their food, hesitantly.

'Killed a Khajit yesterday,' Vlod said, in an effort to generate conversation. 'He was a tough one.'

'What, his neck too thick?' Nazir said.

'Yeah, something like that.'

But Nazir's deadpan monologue had just about set the tone for tonight's dinner. They continued to eat in silence.

Babette rushed in, and that was enough to make the Initiate jump. She had never seen the calm, collected Ice Queen Babette run. But she had.

'He's here,' Babette said.

'Who?' Nazir murmured, focusing on prying out the last few scraps of meat from a rabbit bone.

'The Listener.'

Nazir practically threw his bone across the room. 'What?'

'He's here. He's back.'

'What! Where?'

'I found him in the main hall - he's still - '

Nazir leapt up and dashed out, Babette jogging close behind. Without a moment's hesitation the Initiate got up and darted after them. The three of them burst into the main hall, where they found him standing at the bookshelf.

He was even bigger than the Initiate had remembered. Tall, broad shouldered, and with a cold, stony face that would have silenced an entire room of warriors, the Listener stood before them, moving his hands across the shelfs. For a while they did nothing but simply watched, watched as his hands just glided across the air, searching for what they knew not.

Nazir was the first to recover, leaping forward and clapping him on the back. 'Listener! it's been ages!'

The Listener turned around slowly, and allowed himself a slight smile. It was gone in under a second, as he turned back and continued scanning the shelves.

'Why - what are you looking for?'

'I left my amulet here,' the Listener whispered, his voice coming out in a hoarse breeze.

'I have it!' Nazir cried. 'I have it - kept it in my room, I'll get it for you...'

He disappeared into a chamber to the side. Babette was next, skipping up to the Listener and looking up at his face. 'It's been a long time.'

Again, that slight, almost indiscernible smile flickered across his face. He turned back to the shelf.

'Still the strong, silent, type, huh?' Babette grinned. 'One of the new inititates cooked a horribly overdone stew, you can have it if you like.'

She patted him on the back, twice, and went upstairs. The Initiate was left alone, with the Listener. He had his back turned to her.

'Er,' she said, and then cursed herself for producing such a banal sound. She didn't know how to deal with walking legends standing less than two feet away from her.

The Listener turned, and the Initiate jumped. He raked her over with his silent, blue eyes, evaluating her. After a moment, he started to turn away.

'Er,' the Initiate said again. He turned back.

'Hi,' she said.

The Listener looked at her, and then, impossibly, the right side of his mouth curled upwards ever so slightly. He turned back to the bookshelf, but the Initiate was more than satisfied. That one, single, half-smile that he had given her was enough to smash the tension in the whole room.

'Are you the Listener?' she said, and then cursed herself once again for the stupid question.

He humored her, nodding once without looking round.

'So...the Night Mother speaks to you?'

Another nod.

'Did she speak to you just now? I mean, she's near the entrance - '

Another slight nod.

'That's good - I mean - where have you been all this time?'

She didn't know where she was coming from, but she could guess. Many lonely lights a long, long time ago, Nazir would sit on his favourite chair and lament to nobody in particular on how the Listener had, one day, simply packed his things and left right after finishing a contract. He hadn't been heard from in years. And now, he had simply dropped out of the sky. entering their lives once again as mysteriously as he had left them.

The Listener didn't answer immediately. For a moment, she thought he hadn't heard her, but then he spoke.

'Long story,' he said in that soft whisper, and said no more.

Nazir re-entered, clutching a gold disk hanging on a chain. 'Here it is!'

The Listener nodded his thanks, and slung it around his neck. Meanwhile, beside him, Nazir released all the pent-up frustration he had festered for so long, since the moment the Listener had first gone out and left him.

'Work dried up since you just disappeared...the Night Mother's been silent as a grave and I had to walk from town to town to get the contracts - and I tell you, my feet hurt like Hell after everything was done, had to take off my socks and lay it by the fire everyday...and, the sanctuary, it, it hasn't been the same without you, you always had this presence, this air of authority, but when you were gone...why, Listener? Why did you leave?'

The Listener laid a hand on his shoulder, and it calmed him down immediately. 'Thanks for taking care of here.'

'My pleasure, Listener,' Nazir said, and then regained his senses. 'But you still need to explain - '

'I need someone.'

'Who?' Nazir started.

'I need someone to follow me.'

'Why?' Babette said, trouncing back in. 'What're you doing?'

'An assassination. I need help.'

'What? Did the Night Mother speak to you again?'

The Listener bowed his head as a response. 'I need someone to help me.'

As the Initiate looked at the ring of veterans discuss a conversation so removed from anything she'd ever seen, she sensed Vlod sidle up to her, licking the last of the grease off his dagger.

'You're late,' she whispered.

'Sorry. I was finishing my rabbit.'

'...I have a mark I've been stalking for weeks,' Babette said. 'Sorry, but I can't just drop weeks of hard work to go with you.'

'And, someone has to be taking care of the sanctuary,' Nazir said. 'Since no one else is,' he added a little softly. 'Listener, you can't just walk in here after two years and then just leave again, like last time! Stop being so damn mysterious and - '

The Listener swung his finger, and pointed at the two initiates standing by the side. Both of them jumped, Vlod dropping his dagger.

''The Initiates?' Babette said. 'They'd do, then?' '

The Listener walked towards them, his marble eyes leagues above their's. He stopped in front of Vlod first, who was hastily trying to jam his dagger into his sheath without making a fool of himself. He was failing.

'Ah, er, it's...it's an honor to meet you, sir,' Vlod stammered, dropping his dagger again.

The Listener turned away and stopped in front of the Initiate. She tried her best to keep her back ramrod straight, her hands firmly by her side, her body ready for inspection. Looking into his eyes was like looking down the end of a whirlpool, so she kept her gaze on his chin instead. Now that she had noticed though, he did have a very nicely shaped chin.

'I want you to accompany me,' she heard him say.

At once, without any hesitation, driven on pure instinct, she stared straight into his eyes and spoke. 'I am yours, Listener.'


	2. Chapter 2

The Initiate had always been horrible at meeting new people. Most of the time she would be trying to kill them, so she didn't bother with social interaction. The only people in the whole of Skyrim she could talk to were the rest of the Brotherhood. All of them -Vlod, Nazir, Babette - there was nothing to explain their friendship, she and them had just clicked. But the Listener was someone different. In fact, he seemed to be leagues more unsociable than her, a silent creature shrouded in so much mystery it would take ages to peel all the layers off.

Nazir hadn't been happy with them leaving. He had begged, scolded, pleaded, even shouted for answers, trying to make the Listener stay, but it was no use. The Night Mother had made her decision, even if Nazir hadn't an inkling of what that was. But he had to obey.

The Listener stayed for supper, at least, quietly nibbling at his rabbit. Nazir and Babette sat across him, firing a ton of questions, and the Listener answered only half of them. While the seniors were chatting, Vlod and the Initiate went to their room.

They shared a room, with two beds next to each other, but any other traces of intimacy ended there. The Initiate and Vlod were as distant and as close as brother and sister, and nothing had changed since the day they had first met. Vlod put his dagger on the table and began pulling off his boots.

'Damn,' he said, falling back onto the bed. 'I really cocked up, didn't I?'

'I'm sure he won't hold it against you,' the Initiate said.

'Yeah, yeah, you're one to talk. He chose you.'

'Only because he didn't choose you.'

'Very funny,' he grunted, staring at the ceiling.

'Hey, I wasn't trying to be. It's a fact. He chose me and didn't choose you. What, jealous?'

'A little,' Vlod admitted. 'Still, those eyes of his...it's a bit uncomfortable being around him, you know what I mean?'

'I know what you mean,' the Initiate nodded.

'All the better I wasn't selected to go on a journey with him. I'm not cut out for this stuff, aiding the Sanctuary Head on some vital mission. I'd probably just cock it up.'

'Yeah, you would,' she agreed. 'I might, too.'

'Nah, you'll do fine.'

Nazir appeared at the doorway. 'How are you feeling?' he said to the Initiate.

She shrugged. 'A bit nervous. Do you know anything about the contract?'

'No. He's refused to tell me anything. As far as he's concerned, everything is between him and the Night Mother. But he told me not to worry too much. It should go off without a hitch.'

'When do we set off?'

'Tomorrow,' Nazir said. 'Get some rest. You'll need it.'

He turned to leave, but then poked his head out at the last minute. 'Good luck.'

'Thanks.'

As she listened to his footsteps fading down the hallway, Vlod shifted his head. 'Hey.'

'Yeah?'

'Don't get killed, alright?'

* * *

><p>And now there were walking across Skyrim, the Listener and the Initiate, following the paved roads to their port of call, Whiterun. The Listener hadn't spoke a single word to her since the previous night, not even when the others had gathered in the morning when everyone had gathered to see him off. The Listener had simply smiled and shook hands. He wasn't smiling now. He was just keeping his eyes on the horizon, keeping slow, purposeful steps.<p>

When night was falling, they set up camp near a horn-shaped rock, a structure that could shield them from weather, wolves or any light-fingered bandits. While the Initiate got a fire started, the Listener left briefly and returned with a dead skeever in tow. They both prepared the meat silently, slicing it up and placing it in their makeshift pot to boil.

'Let me see your dagger,' he abruptly said.

He had broken his solemn silence so quickly that she fumbled with her dagger before managing to hand it over. He took the ebony knife in his hands, flipping it up and down. She tried to watch his eyes travel across the blade, inspecting every nook and cranny, judging it. It was disconcerting. She watched the fire instead.

Finally, he nodded briefly and gave it back to her. 'Your clothes,' he said.

'I know,' she said. She was still wearing her shrouded armor custom made for all Dark Brotherhood members - they were fine for regular contracts, but since their target was in the midst of the of the most populated Holds in Skyrim, it was simpler to just blend in. 'I've brought some to change later.'

He nodded again. 'Where are you going to stab?'

'Sorry?'

'The target. Where are you going to stab?'

'Uh, the neck.'

'Where?'

'Both carotid arteries.'

'How?'

'A wide sweep from left to right. Step behind to avoid blood.'

'If you can't stab him in the neck?'

'Erm. Through the chest. Straight through the heart.'

'The ribcage's blocking it.'

'You can still stab through the ribcage, right?'

'You can,' the Listener said. 'Can you?'

'Er, I think so.'

'Can you?'

'Yes.'

He gave another nod, a bigger one this time, and she took that as a sing of satisfaction. The pot was already bubbling nicely, and both of them began to eat.

'After the kill?' he said between mouthfuls.

'Run.'

'If pursued?'

'Keep running.'

'Don't get killed,' he said.

* * *

><p>They reached the tall gates of Whiterun the following morning, masquerading as wandering adventures hoping for food and shelter. The guards let them in without a second glance, they went through, and then they were surrounded by people.<p>

'Who's our mark?' the Initiate whispered.

'Wait,' the Listener replied, waving among the throngs of afternoon shoppers and walking past the marketplace. The Initiate kept up, although she couldn't quite match his graceful pace.

A beggar leaning against a post studied them curiously. The Initiate watched his eyes grow wider and wider, when he suddenly threw himself forwards, running towards them. The Initiate tensed, but the Listener strayed her hand.

'It's you!' he crowed, ignoring all the commoner stares he drew. 'It's you, innit? I knew you'd come back, I knew it!'

The Listener smiled lightly. 'Inside,' he said.

'Ah, of course! Let's get some mead and talk this over!'

The Listener took a coin out of his pocket and handed it over, but the beggar smacked it away.

'I'm paying, this time,' he grinned. 'And I'm treating. Consider it my payment.'

The Listener smiled again, and the three of them walked to the Drunken Huntsman.

* * *

><p>'You look damn fine now, damn fine,' he blabbered on as the bartender served them their drinks. 'I remember the first time we met, you were all cut up and brusied and, by Shor, you couldn't even lift a twig in that state - '<p>

The Listener held up a hand. 'Target.'

'Ah, yes,' the beggar dropped his voice. 'Him. Well, I've got some bad news for you. He's in the Jarl's pocket now, and you know what people do when they'll in the Jarl's pocket. They get a heaping ton of guards.'

The Initiate leaned in closer, sucked in by every word. A hand slapped her hip and she nearly jumped out of her chair.

'Evening, miss,' a red-haired, idiotic looking man sat down beside her. 'It's quite rare for such a fine face to pass by this hellhole.'

She ignored him, trying as hard as she could to focus on the conversation.

'Hard to get, huh? I like that. I like that in a woman. Oh don't worry, Papa's not going to back down,' the red-haired man licked his lips, succeeding in radiating complete moronity from every pore of his body. 'Name's Cy. Cy Lancer.'

'...you still want to do it?' the beggar said.

The Listener nodded.

'Shor bless ya,' the beggar said, placing a hand on his heart. 'I swear, in all my days I'd never met a man as kinder as you.'

'Hey, lady,' Cy Lancer said. 'Am I in the baker's? Because those are some nice, round buns.'

'Shut up,' the Initiate gritted her teeth.

'Oh, a vixen,' Cy slapped her on the shoulder. 'Lord knows Papa likes a vixen.'

His personality was as terrible as his pick-up lines. Her hand itched towards her dagger, but her rational mind strayed her hand. There were too many people about.

The beggar continued. 'Are ya srue you don't want anything? Damned sure?'

The Listener nodded.

'Well, damn you, my friend, because I'll feel as guilty as hell not giving you a single cent.'

'We're not getting paid?' the Initiate said, forgetting about the idiot beside her for a moment.

The Listener turned towards her, and the message in his eyes was clear: be quiet. She gulped, recoiling at the sudden ferocity of his gaze, and was left to contemplate what exactly she did wrong.

'Lady!' Cy shouted in her ear. 'Hello? You in there? Playing hard to get will only get you so far!'

'You are a filthy, disgusting pig,' she said. 'Stop talking to me.'

Cy laughed, slapping her on the back again. 'Nice one, lady!'

'I want you to fuck off!'

'Ooh, more vixen,' he mimed a paw towards her. 'Rawwr.'

She felt like slitting his throat, she really did. She took a glance around the inn. She was in luck. The bar was nearly empty, with all the townsfolk working in the afternoon, and the only other patron was slumped over snoozing on his seat. The bartender had his back turned to them, stacking bottles, and the cook was way back in the kitchen.

One strike to the fleshy area in the back of the neck, striking the spinal cord. Instant paralysis, no blood, silent. An added squeeze to the vertebrae, silent suffocation. Death in under a minute. Discovery a minimum of four hours. She flexed her fingers, imagining the glorious look on Cy's face when his vixen stabbed him in the neck.

'You'll have a lot of trouble getting past the guards...'

'It's fine,' the Listener said, getting up. 'We're going.'

The beggar raised a finger, but then let it fall. He nodded. 'Al right, then. Stay safe. Shor be with you, stranger.'

He nodded briefly to the Initiate, fully noticing her for the first time, and left. The Listener turned to go as well.

'Now that your friends are gone,' Cy puffed out his chest. 'We can finally - '

'Shut up,' she said to him, and then, to the Listener: 'One moment, sir.'

As he turned to look, she whipped out his dagger and thrust down. She was about to hit the spine when the Listener rushed up and slammed her against the counter. Shocked, she let the dagger fall out of her hand. He released her and caught it before it hit the ground.

'Oh, a jealous boyfriend, huh?' Cy chuckled, missing the whole thing. Both of them ignored him. The Listener simply glared, letting the full force of his burning gaze wash over her.

'Outside,' he said, very heavily, and turned away without another word. The Initiate followed, her hand shaking slightly.

'You know where to find me, lady,' Cy called out as she left.

* * *

><p>She felt like slicing Cy up into pieces and having Vlod bake a pie out of him, but it didn't make her feel better. The Listener was trudging ahead with heavy strides, and she had to jog to keep up. Once they were out of sight of the guards, the Listener stopped. He held up her dagger, the dagger he had knocked her down for. She reached for it, but he pulled it back.<p>

'I'm, er, I'm sorry,' she said.

She couldn't meet his gaze. Her dagger didn't move any closer, so she assumed more was expected of her. 'I'm sorry for losing my head.'

The dagger didn't move.

'And for nearly exposing us.'

The dagger didn't move.

'And nearly alerting the town so it was ,er, harder for us to take out our target.

The Listener sighed, and put her dagger into his pocket. He jerked a thumb, motioning at her to follow. Ir looked like she wasn't on speaking terms with him now.

They walked back into the marketplace, and the Initiate had recovered enough to hear an annoyingly high voice drift towards her ear.

'Have you ever been to the Cloud District? Oh, what am I saying - of course you don't.'

'Are you trying to imply something?' the shopkeeper growled.

'Oh, no,' the man with the fine clothes smirked, and stuck his hands in his pockets. 'Or am I, I wonder? Work it out yourself.'

Her eyes traveled past him, and then she saw the guards.

One on each side, the rear and the front, shields strapped to their arms and swords glinting in the sunlight. The faceless masks betrayed no emotion, no sympathy, no fear. The Initiate had faced guards from all different holds - Dawnstar, Falkreath - but Whiterun guards were the most deadly, quick efficient, trained, and ready to lay their lives down to protect the Jarl and his subjects. The Initiate hadn't beena ble to kill even one of them, let alone an entire regiment.

As the man with fine clothes walked across the square, the two guards trailed him, keeping a tight formation.

'Is that him?' the Initiate whispered.

The Listener nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

They could have stabbed them there and then, but the presence of the guards changed everything. Too many variables, too many complications. They retreated back into the Drunken Huntsman for another round of drinks.

Not that the target was on the Initiate's mind at that moment, rather, she was more concerned that the Listener still hadn't given her dagger back to her. An assassin's dagger was like a part of her body, a tool that no sane assassin would fail to keep by her bedside. The very fact that the Listener was withholding her dagger from her meant that he was either ignorant or really, really angry at her.

She wasn't sure if she deserved it, but accepted it as such. The horrible Cy Lancer - who thankfully had since left the bar - had deserved to die, she had no doubt about that, but she supposed she had been too headstrong in thinking about murdering a man inside an inn of all places.

'One room,' the Listener said, approaching the counter.

'For how many nights?'

'One.'

'Alright,' the bartender held out her hand for the coins and returned with a key. 'One night, you'd better clear out. Inn's full enough as it is.'

the Listener nodded without smiling, and began ascending the stairs, his back to the Initiate. She followed him up.

Their room was terrible by Skyrim standards, but the Sanctuary wasn't much better anyway. It only had one bed and one table. The Listener sat on the floor, and looked at her.

'Are you getting the bed?' she said.

The Listener stared at her, nestling into his silence. She gulped and tried again.

'Uh - you should have the bed.'

He took out her dagger, and placed it in front of him. She wasn't sure how to react.

'Why are we going to kill him?' he said.

'... Because the Night Mother told you to, right?'

He ignored her reply completely. 'Why are we going to kill him?'

She didn't know how to answer him. As with all the contracts she had taken, she was a bit fuzzy on the details. She didn't know what the man had done exactly to warrant an execution - although she could take a guess, powerful men like him always pissed people off one way or another - but the fact she was most bewildered about was that the contract had come from a beggar, of all people, and what was more, that beggar couldn't even pay.

She decided honesty was the best policy. 'I don't know, sir,' she said.

'Why do you kill?' he said.

'Because...it's what I do.'

He shook his head. Him, a fellow assassin, a killer leagues above her, should understand. But he was choosing not to. She bit her tongue, feeling the first vestiges of irritation creep up on her. By right, she shouldn't be angry with the Listener - he was the one who was angry with her - but she couldn't help herself.

'The target's name is Nazeem,' he said. 'Became political advisor to the Jarl a few months ago. Wields a lot of power in Whiterun, and is buried in corruption. Ties to the Thieves Guild, Necromancers, every crook in Skyrim. Leeches off stallholders, innkeepers, everyone in Whiterun, he has them all on a string, including the Jarl. It won't be long before Whiterun becomes his city. With his rules,' he picked up her dagger. 'But the city knows that if he's gone, Whiterun can remain safe.'

He pressed the dagger into her hand. 'Always know what you're killing for,' he said. 'You can have the bed.'

* * *

><p>Of course she protested, and of course he insisted. Strangely gentlemanly for an assassin, he sat at the corner of the room and began to tell her the details.<p>

Nazeem lived with his wife in Dragonsreach. Two guards stood sentinel at the entrance in rotating shifts. Another three patrolled the interior of the keep, and one more guarded the door to Nazir's room. Six in total. The Initiate wanted to ask him how he knew all this, but the answer came a second later in her head. He was the Listener; he had been all over Skyrim and back. Knowing the cycles of Whiterun was only a small matter to him.

'Why can't we strike him down in the street?' she said.

'Too many witnesses,' he said. 'And the guards are too prepared. In Dragonsreach, they're on their home turf. Confidence leads to inefficiency. They'll never suspect an attack in Dragonsreach itself.'

They would use a classic bait and switch trick. One assassin would storm into Dragonsreach, cause a ruckus, and flee with all the guards on his tails. Which would leave Nazeem wide open for the second assassin to make the move.

'I'll be the bait,' he said, much to her chagrin, though she didn't know where that had come from.

'I'll be the bait,' she insisted.

'I'll be the bait,' he said. 'I'll last longer. You go for Nazeem.'

He really was a gentleman, offering up the final kill for her. 'Alright, sir.'

'Don't kill anyone else,' he said.

'Why?'

'There's nothing more tragic than killing for nothing,' he said. 'If you kill, do it for something.'

She nodded, her mind still trying to make sense of his words. She hadn't met anyone quite like him before.

'We strike in three hours,' he said. 'Don't get killed.'

* * *

><p>When the moon rose up burning bright in the sky, they made their move, creeping up the stairs to Dragonsreach, stopping just short of the bridge that led to the fabled Jarl's palace. The two guards were there, like they always were, standing like silent pillars with their weapons gleaming in the moonlight.<p>

The Listener nodded once at the Initiate, briefly, and stood up in full view of the guards. He began walking to them, as if he was just taking a nightly stroll. Th Initiate watched, safely hidden.

The guards saw him at once, as one they drew their swords. 'Halt! What is your business?'

The Listener kept walking, silent.

'Stop right there, or we will - '

The Listener broke into a dash, scurrying past their faces and disappearing through the great double doors. The guards gave a cry, and followed in after him. The Initiate waited, keeping her dagger at her thigh.

Then he came zipping out of Dragonsreach, zooming across the bridge and across the steps, with a huffing contingent of guards chasing after him. The Initiate counted five of them in all. As she watched the Listener disappear into the streets and the guards thunder after him, she doubted very much that they would catch even a hair of him. The Listener had moved faster than anything she had ever seen - bounding like a wolf, speedy as a rabbit. She thought of running like that one day, and it was a refreshing thought.

Feeling contented, as if she had just drunk a bellyful of mead, The Initiate jogged up the the open doors and peered inside. The traditional fireplace in the center of the main hall was still burning strong, but aside from that, nothing stirred. She drew her dagger and crept in.

If she had calculated right, there was only one guard left - the guard in front of Nazeem's room. But as she crawled onto the second floor, the corridor was entirely deserted. The door to Nazeem's room lay bare. She couldn't believe her luck.

The lock on the door wasn't even that hard - just one jiggle was enough to send the tumblers clicking into their shafts. The door swung open, and she darted inside.

The light was on, and the bed was empty Nazeem wasn't there.

'Who are you?' a voice issued from behind. Acting on pure instinct, the Initiate slid her dagger back into her robes and spun around. A Redguard woman was sitting in a chair, eating out of a bowl of tomato soup, surveying her with wareful eyes.

'If you're looking for my husband, he's not here,' she said. 'Check the Jarl's backside. I'm Ahlam, by the way, his wife that everyone conveniently forgets about.'

The Initiate thought quickly. This woman, whoever she was, didn't seem alarm at her sudden intrusion, which meant that the commotion the Listener had sparked had gone unnoticed within the keep - another testament to his speed.

'I've been traveling from Riften,' the Initiate said, conjuring up a cover with ease. 'I've found something in the Thieves Guild that Nazeem might be interested in, so I thought - '

'Nazeem, Nazeem, Nazeem,' the woman rolled her eyes. 'He doesn't realise that with all the time he spends with strange visitors like you he doesn't have any time for me.'

'If you could tell me where to find him - '

'Sometimes it's hard being the wife of the Jarl's bootlicker,' she sighed. 'Sorry if I'm holding you up, by the way - I just can't find anyone else to talk to about this.'

'You are holding me up,' the Initiate informed her, and turned to leave.

Three guards blocked her way. She stared at them dumbly as they drew their swords.

She leapt back into the room and got her dagger up, just as they unleashed a flurry of blows, their swords flying across the room, striking the walls, drawers, and the edge of her dagger.

'What?' Ahlam upended her entire soup on her dress. 'What - '

The Initiate swung her blade left and right, but it was no good. The guards were hemming her in, attacking as one, driving her towards the corner of them room. She thought she might actually die here, when suddenly a dagger appeared in one of the guards' throats, and he fell. The other two turned.

The Listener knocked both their heads in quick succession with the hilt of his dagger, and they stumbled apart. The Initiate didn't waste this chance,. She leapt towards him, and he caught her arm to steady her balance. Then the both of them ran.

They didn't get far. A squad of guards was waiting for them at the door, far too many too count, forming an impenetrable wall. The Listener stopped dead, and dropped her dagger. He raised his hands and motioned the Initiate to do the same. She did so, her thoughts whirling. This had been a trap. The guards were ready for them, and they had known, somehow. It had all been planned.

A man walked out of the wall of guards, and the Initiate could tell that from his lack of helmet and confident posture that he was someone important. Then she fully recognised him. Commander Caius of the Whiterun guard himself was here to oversee this operation, studying his captives with the eyes of a hawk.

'Lock them up,' he said, raising a hand above them. Both assassins were forced to their feet, their daggers snatched away.


End file.
